Reentry
by MissLindaLee
Summary: A fixit story for the beginning of Season 3. Thanks to Cas for all her help with this!
1. Chapter 1

_This story is a fixit story, since I had a lot of problems with the season 3 two-part opener. There are some spoilers in here for both episodes, mainly Phoenix, though the last quarter of Exile is where I start. Enjoy! Oh, and I don't own any of the characters; they all belong to DC and Warner Bros.; I'm just borrowing them._

- - - - 

Jonathan stared at the receiver in his hand. "I've got to go get him," he said.

"How, Jonathan? If he sees you he could either run, or if he's angry enough he could hurt you. You can't stop him."

Jonathan put the phone down and walked over to his wife, taking her shoulders gently and looking down at her. "Martha, if I don't go and get him now, we may lose him forever."

Martha looked hesitant, but after a few seconds she nodded, accepting the fact that, as scared as she was for both of her men, her husband was right. Jonathan kissed her, then he looked at her again before grabbing his coat from the kitchen and walking out the back door.

- - - -

In the barn, Jonathan opened his toolbox and pulled out a small rag-covered object. He unfolded the rag and pulled out the octagonal key to Clark's spaceship. He stared at it for a few seconds, looking at both sides of the small object, wondering if there could be another way to bring his son home. That thought quickly passed when he realized that there was no other way. Determined, but feeling more scared than he ever remembered feeling, he left the barn.

- - - -

Jonathan walked into the underground caves, holding a flashlight, looking around. He searched for a few seconds before stopping at the wall where Clark had described the octagonal groove was. He looked at the key in his hand, then slowly stepped toward the wall. He shined his flashlight on the spot where Clark had told him the groove was, but Jonathan could see nothing; the groove was no longer there. He tapped the wall, and then he felt around, looking for the groove; he pounded the wall in anger when he realized the groove was gone.

"He wasn't ready!" he shouted as he looked up. He backed away, staring at the wall, wanting to talk face to face to the person responsible for tearing his family apart. It was in vain, he knew, but he still couldn't stop himself; he had to let his anger out. "But you, you had to keep pushing him anyway, didn't you?" He turned around and looked up. "What kind of a race are you people?" He shined his light back on the wall once more, then looked at the key. Disgusted, he tossed the key to the cave floor and walked away. "No wonder you destroyed yourselves."

Jonathan was about five feet away when he heard the soft, high-pitched sound. He turned and saw the key, the symbols on it glowing, float into the air, spinning as it floated over to the wall, shooting directly into the center where the groove used to be. Jonathan slowly walked over, amazed, as the symbols on the key turned red, yellow, and blue, and the symbols surrounding the key glowed a brilliant white, rotating in alternating directions. The farmer stood mesmerized as the key seemed to open up into a pentagonal shape. A few seconds later a blast of energy shot out towards Jonathan, but before it could hit him, he was hit from behind. He flew threw the air and landed twenty feet from where he had been standing. He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from him, and he rolled a few more feet. He stopped himself with his arms and turned back to see what it was that hit him. His eyes widened at what he saw.

Standing where he had been was a slender woman. She was surrounded by a brilliant column of white light that almost blinded Jonathan, but he could see she was young, around Clark's age dressed in a black t-shirt, dark jeans, and bright red, leather boots. Her long, blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she stared upward as a loud voice thundered through the caves, rattling Jonathan to the bones.

"I am Jor-El, the true father of Kal-El," the voice said.

"His name is Clark Kent," the woman shouted. "His parents are Jonathan and Martha Kent; they raised him; he is their son!"

"His destiny is too great for someone like you to comprehend," Jor-El's voice thundered.

"Wanna bet?" the woman challenged.

Jonathan could feel the tingle as a surge of energy rushed from different directions toward the young woman. He saw them hit her with enough force to break anyone in half, and Jonathan had to turn his head as the intensity of the light increased to the point where it was blinding. After what seemed like an eternity, the light faded, and Jonathan slowly looked back. He gaped when he saw her standing there, her feet planted firmly, appearing as strong as ever.

"Convinced?" the young woman asked. "Or do you want to try disintegrating me again?"

"You are . . . not of this world," Jor-El said slowly. "You are -"

"I am who I am," the woman interrupted. "Just as Clark is who he is. And you have no business or right telling him to be something else, nor do you have any right tearing him from the only family he's ever known."

"Kal-El has a destiny to fulfill," Jor-El thundered, shaking the walls of the cave. "You, of all people, should understand that."

"The only thing I understand is that you are keeping him from becoming the person who he is really meant to be," the woman replied. "You may have all these hopes and ideals for him, but they are the hopes and ideals of a dead world. Now, I don't care what you say, but this little test that you have Clark in the middle of right now is over. I'm bringing him back to where he belongs - now."

"He will fulfill his destiny," Jor-El replied harshly. "Bringing him home will not -"

"Oh, bug off," the woman interrupted. She looked down at the wall, focusing on the key, then she slowly raised a hand, palm facing the wall. The key shot from the wall, as if it had been blasted out from behind, and the young woman caught it. The column of light quickly faded, leaving the young woman and Jonathan in the semi-darkness of the caves. The farmer slowly got to his feet, breathing hard, watching the young woman with extreme caution. He almost flinched when she turned and walked slowly towards him; he wasn't sure what to make of her, so he tensed, his guard going up. "Who are you?" he asked.

The young woman smiled. "Someone who had waited a long time to meet you, Jonathan Kent," she said. She put the key in her jeans pocket. "Go back to your wife. I'll take care of everything."

Jonathan frowned. "Like hell I will. My son is out there, scared and confused, and alone, and I don't care what he's done, I'm going to find him and bring him home!"

The young woman just smiled, her blue eyes bright. "You don't know how grateful I am that you and Martha were the ones who found him."

Jonathan stopped. She knew the truth. The farmer frowned, towering over her by a good foot. "Who are you?" he asked through clenched teeth. "How do you know so much about my son?"

"I know a lot about him," she answered. "Just like I know a lot about you and Martha. I know how much you love him, which is why you came down here; you want him back so badly that you were going to ask for Jor-El's help."

Jonathan sighed, frustrated. "Look, whoever you are -"

"My name is Linda," she interrupted.

"Okay, Linda," Jonathan said. "You explain to me how you know so much about my family, or you will be very sorry you came down here."

"You would never hurt me, Jonathan Kent," Linda replied.

"If it came down to getting my son back, do you really want to challenge me on that?" Jonathan asked.

"Oh, I have no doubt you'd try taking me out if you thought you had to," Linda said, "but it would be a pointless exercise. Besides, we're wasting time standing here talking. I'm going to go get Clark like I told Jor-El I was going to."

Jonathan reached out to grasp Linda's elbow. "You won't tell me who you are; why should I believe that you want my son home and safe?"

She looked up at him with painful honesty. "Because without him, I would be nothing." She paused for a moment, holding his gaze, then she loosened her elbow.

"What -" Jonathan didn't get any further in his question as Linda blurred away, leaving the farmer alone in the caves.

End of Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

- - - -  
  
Clark felt a rush of energy as he grabbed the top titanium hinge on the safe door, and it crumbled in his hand as easily as if it had been a handful of dry soil. He did the same to the bottom hinge and then lifted the door completely off, resting it against the wall. He grinned when he saw the prize inside: a small metal box. He took the box and turned around to leave. He stopped short when he saw a young woman standing there, staring at him with a determination in her eyes.  
  
Clark looked her up at down, whistling his appreciation. "Looks like old man Luthor finally did something right," he said smirking. "Don't tell me, you're the new head of security."  
  
"You know, there was always a part of me hoping that you exaggerated the ring's influence over you," she replied, a hint of sadness in her voice, a sliver of hurt in her eyes. "But it's clear to see that you weren't lying." She shrugged. "Oh, well, at least I know what I'm up against now."  
  
Clark chuckled and tossed the small box from hand to hand. "Well, I've gotten what I came here for. Let's say you and I get out of here, go back to my place, and then I can see what I'm up against with you."  
  
"I've got a better idea," she replied, folding her arms across her chest. "Why don't you stop this charade and go back to Smallville where you belong?"  
  
The smirk disappeared from Clark's face. "How do you know who I am?" he asked, edging toward her threateningly.  
  
"I know a lot about you," she said. "Clark."  
  
Clark stopped. He clenched his free hand and narrowed his eyes. A few seconds later he headed for the door. "Too bad," he said. "We could have been something special." The young woman got in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.  
  
"We are something special," she replied. "Just not in the way you think."  
  
Clark glanced down at the young woman. He stared at her for a moment, then he reached out and grabbed her around the throat with his free hand. She struggled under his grasp as he lifted her, bringing her so close they were touching noses. "I'm not going back," he whispered. He tossed her into the far wall, and she crumpled face down to the floor.  
  
Clark turned to leave, but he saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes. He stopped and turned his head, and he saw the young woman slowly get to her feet, completely unscathed; he tried to hide his surprise beneath a cool exterior, but it was difficult. Her expression was hard as she narrowed her eyes.  
  
"You want to play like that," she said with edge, her voice low, "fine by me." She rushed Clark at superspeed, ramming into him with full force. The two both crashed through the office window and tumbled headfirst toward the ground.  
  
Clark could feel the rush of the wind as the two hurtled down, and it took him a moment to realize he had been caught off guard. That surprised him, but he quickly shook it from his mind as he looked at the woman he was holding and who was holding him. He was expecting to see fear, but there was only determination; he was undaunted.  
  
"If you have any prayers to say," he shouted above the thunderous sound, "then you better say them now; I have a strong feeling that you don't land as well as I do!"  
  
The woman simply tilted her head a bit, an amused smile playing on her lips. "You're right," she said calmly. Quicker than anyone Clark had ever met, she twisted around until she was behind him, pinning his arms behind him. Suddenly, their speed decreased, and Clark - even under the effects of the ring - was surprised to see that their direction had changed; they were veering up and away from the city and zooming up into the clouds. Clark craned his head behind him in complete shock. The young woman looked smug. "I don't land."  
  
(End of Chapter 2) 


	3. Chapter 3

- - - - 

"It doesn't make any sense," Jonathan said as he sat at the kitchen table with Martha. There were cups of tea in front of them, but they hadn't touched them. "She just came out of no where. And she talked with Jor-El like she knew him; he certainly seemed to know her." 

"Jonathan, what were you even thinking?" Martha asked. "Going down to those caves with that key. What were you planning on doing?" 

"It doesn't matter," Jonathan replied. "That girl stopped me." 

"No, it does matter," Martha said. "You were going to make some sort of deal with him, weren't you?" Jonathan gave her a look, but he didn't say anything. Martha sighed. "Jonathan, we don't even know what those caves are capable of." 

"Clark is our son," Jonathan replied. "He's out there, scared, alone, and confused." He sighed. "I would have done anything to bring him home, Martha." 

Martha was upset with what her husband almost did, but her expression softened. "I know you meant well, but what if you ended up like Dr. Walden; look what happened to him when he tried messing with those caves." She looked at her husband. "What about this girl? Do you think she was telling the truth?" 

Jonathan shrugged. "She seemed to hate Jor-El almost as much as we do." He took a deep breath. "But he knew her, and she made no effort to hide that when she was talking with him." He shook his head. "I honestly don't know what to believe, Martha." He looked up as he heard a sound coming from outside, much like the sound a falling plane made. "What on -" 

For the second time, he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as a tremendous explosion outside, rattling the entire house. Pots, pans, jars, and other object crashed to the floor. It lasted for only a few seconds, then everything was silent. Jonathan and Martha looked at each other. 

"What on earth?" Martha asked. She and Jonathan hurried toward the kitchen door and pushed it open, rushing onto the porch. They stopped short when they saw a dark form laying in the middle of the gravel drive. The form slowly stirred and sat up as the dust around him started settling. The lights from the house shone brightly enough for them to see that the form was their son. It didn't matter how he got there, just that he was there. 

"Clark?" Jonathan asked. 

The young man looked toward the voice, and a look of familiarity washed over his face, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by a cold smile. "Jonathan and Martha Kent." 

"Clark," Martha replied tearfully as she started towards her son, but Jonathan stopped her. 

"He's still wearing the ring," Jonathan said, nodding to the light glinting off the red stone. 

"You're scared of me." Clark almost laughed. He held up his right and rubbed the ring, feeling the rush of the ring's effects coursing through his blood. 

"Clark," Jonathan said, "you need to take that ring off. It's dangerous." 

"Please, Clark," Martha said. "Come back to us; we love you." 

Clark just rolled his eyes and turned his back on his parents, but before he could take off, there was a distinct whooshing sound above him. He looked up as the young woman came rushing down feet first, but to everyone's amazement, she didn't crash; she landed gracefully in front of Clark, looking up at him with cold determination. 

"You know," Clark said to her, "if you brought me here in some lame attempt to get me to see my parents and get all teary-eyed about what I did, then you're wasting your time." 

"Clark, your parents love you," she said firmly, "and I will not let you hurt them any longer. That ring is coming off your finger if I have to pry it off myself." 

Clark held his arms up in mock surrender. "Take your best shot." 

Linda took a step towards him, but she stopped and glanced over at the porch. She knew by coming here that she might have to physically fight with Clark, but she had hoped that seeing how much his parents were hurting because of him, he would give up the ring. With him being so resistant, she wasn't sure what she should do, especially with his parents present; she didn't think they'd like her beating up their son, regardless of what he was being affected by. 

Unfortunately, she didn't have much time to think about her options. Clark took advantage of her momentary distraction and lunged at her at superspeed. The young woman was unprepared for that, and she would have been thrown back as soon as Clark collided with her, but he had grabbed her around the waist, so they both went tumbling to the ground. The force of the impact knocked them back, and they burrowed a trench where they skidded along the gravel drive for about thirty feet before coming to a stop right in front of the barn. 

In the midst of the gravel, dirt, and dust, Linda struggled under Clark's weight, but he was bigger than her, and he had the advantage of surprise over her, making it difficult to overpower him. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and Linda could see . . . something there; it wasn't the Clark she knew, and for the first time that she could remember, she was scared of him. Her survival instincts kicked in, and she prayed that Jonathan and Martha would forgive her for what she was about to do. The young woman sucked in her breath, and then she blew it out as hard as she could. 

The air hit Clark with the force of a two-ton battering ram; he went flying backwards through the air, smashing through part of the scalloped white fence, landing in the middle of the yard near the porch. Before Clark could even lift his head, Linda ran over to him and tackled him, pinning him down. She reached for his hand, trying to get the ring off. 

"Wow, so she flies, she's strong, and she has a lot of hot air," Clark replied sarcastically. "Let's see if she's invulnerable as well." He grabbed her by her shirt, near the collar, and threw her backwards. Linda went flying through the air and smashed through the side wall of the barn. Wood splintered on impact, and Clark got to his feet. There was no movement in the barn; Clark smirked as he looked back at his parents. Both of their expressions were a combination of fear 

"If you wanted me back so badly, you should have sent someone who could have taken me," Clark said. 

"Clark," Jonathan said gently, a lump welling in his throat, "son, please, this isn't you." 

"Clark, please," Martha said tearfully. 

"Not a chance," Clark shrugged. He turned to leave, but found himself staring at Linda; her clothes were dusty and torn in some areas, but she looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. 

"This ends now," she said, her voice low. She lunged at Clark, and the two tumbled to the ground, rolling as they wrestled. After a few moments of struggling, Clark managed to pin Linda under him again. 

Clark raised his right hand, his fist balled up, but when his eyes locked with hers, he stopped. It was as if something in that moment clicked as he stared at the young woman. For the first time since he met her, he wasn't seeing an adversary or someone to conquer; he was seeing a person. There was a small surge of energy from the ring, and Clark could feel the erupting effect, urging him to follow his Kryptonian nature. 

"Do it," Linda goaded as she stared up at him. She had seen the change in his eyes. "Come on, Clark. You take me out, you can go. All you have to do is hit me, and it'll all be over." 

Clark's fist trembled in the air as his mind warred with what to do, his thoughts fighting each other, one side trying to overpower the other: 

_Even if I hit her she'll rebound; she threw me aside by breathing on me, so she can stand one of my punches . . . for her sake, she'd better . . . _

No, this isn't me - she's a girl; I can't hit a girl if my life's not in danger. 

She took you back to a place where you didn't want to go! Bash her head in! 

But my parents are watching! I've already hurt them so much . . . . 

They hate you; remember what you did? 

Clark froze. His breathing was ragged as he stared down at the young woman. He could see the fear in her eyes, her confidence gone, and he knew what he had to do. 

(End of Chapter 3) 


	4. Chapter 4

Shaking, he got off her, but he stayed on his knees. Linda scrambled to her feet, her guard going up as she looked down at Clark. She held her breath as she waited for his next move. She felt so much relief when she saw him shakily slide the ring from his finger and hold it out to her.  
  
"Please," he whispered tearfully to her, too ashamed to look at her. "Get it away from me."  
  
Pocketing the ring, she slowly backed away from him, never taking her eyes from him. Jonathan and Martha hurried off the porch and towards their son, but Linda saw the Kents approaching, and she held out her hand sideways, as if to put a hand on Jonathan's chest, but she was not within reach. She glanced over and caught his eye, shaking her head. The Kents stopped reluctantly, but they kept their eyes focused on their son.  
  
A split second later, Clark screamed and threw his head back, arching his back, his chest jutting outward. His shirt ripped open, and the Kents could see a detached glow over his chest, a horrible scar searing itself off of his skin. They wanted to run over and take him in their arms, but they couldn't; it was as if their feet were rooted to the ground, and it was all they could do to not cry out as they watched their son writhing and screaming helplessly.  
  
Clark finally fell over and curled on his side, rocking slightly. He was crying, so overwhelmed - physically, mentally, emotionally; suddenly, he was very much just a kid, turned on his left side, almost facing the house, his hands between his face and chest, his right fingers digging into his left palm, sucking on one knuckle as he cried. His sobs were drained, airless, the kind that would tighten the chest of anyone who heard them. He was struggling to control his basic breathing, and seemed unaware of anything around him.  
  
Jonathan looked at Linda angrily, his jaw working, his face agonized at not being able to go to his son when Clark needed him. Linda saw the farmer's expression, and she nodded. Jonathan and Martha wasted no time in going to Clark, kneeling on either side of him, and taking him in their arms, comforting him with soft, reassuring words.  
  
Linda watched the reunion with a tired smile and a tiny bit of wistfulness. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The easiest part was over; the hardest part was yet to come.  
  
(End of Chapter 4) 


	5. Chapter 5

- - - -  
  
The kitchen door swung open, and Jonathan and Martha came walking in. Martha was supporting Clark around his waist, while Jonathan had his arm around his son just below Clark's shoulders; the young man was conscious, but he was pale and out of breath. The Kents carefully sat him in one of the chairs at the table, and Jonathan knelt beside his son and started looking him over. When Martha was sure that her husband had everything under control, she hurried over to the stove and got the kettle, filling it with water. While it was warming on the stove, she fumbled around in the cabinets, looking for a clean mug that hadn't been packed away and the spice bag containing Clark's favorite drink: apple cider.  
  
Linda trailed in, unnoticed, and watched the scene in front of her as she stood near the open door. She saw Jonathan touch Clark's chest, trying to feel if that horrible scar was still there; she could see his relief when he saw it was gone, but it didn't stop him from checking his son entirely, even if he happened to be invulnerable. Linda glanced over and saw Martha pouring hot water into the mug and stirring it with a spoon. She smiled slightly, glad that things were under control, so she decided that it was time for her to go; she quietly started to slip out.  
  
Jonathan saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head. He saw Linda heading out the door; he got to his feet. "Wait," he said, his voice firm, but low and with edge. Linda turned. He looked her square in the eyes and pointed a finger at her. "You are not going anywhere until we get some answers." He pointed to an empty chair at the table. "Now shut the door and sit down."  
  
Linda was startled by the power behind Jonathan's voice, and her eyes widened, her mouth slightly open. She knew she could just leave and no one could stop her, but she stayed. She shut the door and walked over to the table, sitting in the chair that Jonathan pointed to. She glanced up and saw the Jonathan and Clark looking at her. Jonathan was looking at her sternly, while Clark watched her with tired curiosity. Linda looked over at Martha and saw her coming over with the cup of steamy cider; she put it in front of Clark.  
  
"There you go," she said to her son, "your favorite drink." She turned to Linda; she was slightly hesitant about the newcomer, but she did bring their son back. The least she could do was offer her something. "Would you like some -"  
  
"Apple cider?" Linda interrupted quietly. The trio looked at her. She smiled ruefully. "Sorry, and no thanks."  
  
Martha hesitated, then looked at her husband. He looked about as lost as she did; how did she know about Clark's drink? Jonathan shrugged and looked at her. Martha tried to put on a convincing smile as she slowly took a seat in an empty chair at one end of table. Jonathan waited a few moments before taking the last chair. He set his jaw as he stared at the young woman.  
  
"Okay," he said. "Now, who are you?"  
  
"I already told you who I am," Linda replied calmly.  
  
"No, all you told me was your name," Jonathan said, trying to keep his voice under control; it was very difficult. "But that doesn't tell me what you were doing in those caves, how you know Jor-El, and how in the world you have superpowers like my son."  
  
Linda raised an eyebrow. She knew that there was the possibility of this conversation coming up during her time here, but nothing could completely alleviate the funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. She sighed.  
  
"Okay," she replied. "Linda wasn't the name I was born with; I changed my name when I arrived here."  
  
"By 'here,'" Martha said, "do you mean Smallville?"  
  
"Well, actually," Linda answered slowly, "by 'here' I mean . . . Earth."  
  
Jonathan and Martha glanced at each other, not sure what to say or if they believed her.   
  
Clark sat up a little straighter and tilted his head. "What was your name?" he asked quietly.  
  
Linda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well," she answered, smoothing back a strand of hair from her face, "I was named Kara, but had I been the boy my family desired, I would have been called Kam-El." She paused and looked right at Clark. "As one who follows Kal-El."  
  
Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the young woman warily. His common sense was telling him that she was crazy or dangerous . . . or both, and he wanted to tell her to get lost and leave him and his family alone, but then he thought back to what he had seen Linda do - everything she had done. He slowly looked at his wife, gauging her reaction.  
  
Martha went pale and put a hand over her mouth as she stared at Linda. She glanced over at Jonathan, and their eyes locked; they both turned and looked at their son. Despite his fatigue, Clark's eyes were wide, and his mouth formed a little 'o' as he just stared at the young woman.  
  
Even with all the confusion and tension and emotions, Jonathan knew he had to say something. He swallowed a growing lump in his throat as he took a deep breath and turned to Linda.  
  
"Is that why Jor-El seemed to know you?" he asked quietly. "You're related to him?"  
  
"He was my uncle," Linda replied. "But if his hyper-intelligent civilization hadn't gone and stuck its collective finger in an electric terminal, I would have disowned him long ago."  
  
"Wait, if you're Jor-El's niece," Martha said softly, "then that means you're also -"  
  
"My cousin," Clark whispered in awe.  
  
(End of Chapter 5) 


	6. Chapter 6

- - - -  
  
Linda felt self-conscious as the three pairs of eyes just stared at her, but no one said anything. She hated silence; she had always associated silence with horrible things from her past, but she knew nothing horrible would come from the three people sitting with her at the Kent table. Still, it made her uncomfortable, and she shifted in her chair.  
  
"Look, I know you probably have a few questions about what's going on," she said.  
  
"More than just a few," Jonathan said. He sighed. "Look, you've brought our son home to us, and for that we are grateful, but you don't have any proof of who you claim to be."  
  
"Dad, you saw how strong she is," Clark protested. "You saw what she did . . . and she flew . . ."  
  
"And you said that Jor-El knew her," Martha added. "And that she knew him."  
  
"So, we're supposed to just take her word that she's Clark's cousin," Jonathan replied. "Even if she is, why should we trust her; we couldn't even trust Clark's biological father. For all we know, Jor-El could be pulling a fast one on all of us."  
  
"If I was a trick fashioned by Jor-El," Linda quietly spoke up, "how would I know what Clark's favorite drink was?" She looked up, her eyes bright with tears. "How would I know that Clark got his X-ray vision during his freshman year, his heat vision when he was a sophomore? How would I know what red kryptonite does to Clark, or that I knew you'd be in the caves?" She took a deep breath. "Look, all things considered, I know you have every reason to doubt me, but please give me a chance."  
  
Martha and Clark looked at Jonathan; they were both willing to give the young woman a chance, but they weren't sure he would. Jonathan met their eyes, and he held their gaze. It had been a long time since he had seen his family together, and part of him just wanted to leave it that way with no questions as to how it happened, but the look his family was giving him persuaded him to give the young woman a chance. Jonathan sighed and looked at Linda.  
  
"Okay," he said.  
  
Linda smiled gratefully. She took a deep breath and reached into her pocket and pulled out Clark's octagonal key and the red kryptonite ring. She put them on the table and pushed them over to Jonathan. "First of all, I think you should keep these," she said quietly. Jonathan looked a little surprised, but he took the objects. He pocketed the ring first, and then he started doing the same with the key. "Wait." To everyone's surprise, Linda reached into her other pocket and pulled out another octagonal key. She placed it on the table for them to see. "Here."  
  
"Where did you get that?" Clark whispered as he stared at the key.  
  
"My father made it," Linda replied. "It's the key to the spaceship that sent me to Earth." She sighed. "It also fits inside the slot in the caves."  
  
"We'll take your word for that," Jonathan said. He didn't want to go into the caves ever again if he could help it. He cleared his throat. "So, you're really from Krypton."  
  
Linda shrugged. "Sort of," she replied. "I wasn't born on Krypton, but my parents were."  
  
"Who are your parents?" Martha asked.  
  
"Their names were Zor-El and Alura," Linda answered.  
  
Clark furrowed his eyebrows. "Were?"  
  
"They're dead," Linda replied. She paused. "Well, actually, now they aren't dead, but they will be . . . in about ten years."  
  
"What do you mean 'they will be?'" Jonathan asked. "Are you clairvoyant?"  
  
"I don't have to be," Linda answered. She took in a deep breath. "I'm from the future."  
  
(End of Chapter 6) 


	7. Chapter 7

- - - -  
  
A deafening silence fell over the room. Jonathan, Martha, and Clark tried to talk, but they were still comprehending what the young woman had just said. After a few moments, Jonathan sighed.  
  
"You want to run that by us again?" Jonathan asked.  
  
"I know it sounds crazy," Linda replied, "but I'm really from the future."  
  
"That's impossible," Jonathan said. "Look, you've proven that you're Clark's cousin, but you can't expect us to believe you're from the future. No one is capable of time travel."  
  
"Not yet," Linda answered. "But in about ten years, yeah, it will be possible. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here talking with you."  
  
"Is there any way you can prove it?" Martha asked gently.  
  
"I can tell you about that time when you were in the barn a few nights ago," Linda answered. "You and Jonathan were upset about having to leave the farm, and Clark was listening in from the loft." Martha and Jonathan looked at Clark, their mouths slightly open.  
  
"Clark," Martha whispered tearfully, "you *were* there."  
  
"Son, why did run away?" Jonathan asked, his voice cracking as he tried to keep the lump in his throat from dissolving.  
  
Clark sighed, shrugging. "I didn't think you guys wanted me around anymore . . .," he said quietly. "You told Mom that even though I was gone, you were still going to have happy days."  
  
Jonathan and Martha looked at each other, and Jonathan took his wife's hand. He looked at his son. "Clark, we didn't mean that the way you think we did," he said.  
  
"Then what did you mean?" Clark asked.  
  
"We didn't think you were coming back," Martha answered. "We'd spent so long looking for you, and we thought you were gone forever. We weren't going to stop looking for you, Clark. Nothing was going to stop us from looking for you."  
  
"But why?" Clark looked up, the tears in his eyes. "I hurt so many people. I made you lose the baby."  
  
"Son, we never blamed you for that," Jonathan replied.  
  
"Yes, you did," Clark said. "You wouldn't even listen to me when I tried talking to you at the hospital. And then later, you shut me out of Mom's room."  
  
Jonathan felt his face fall as a cold feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. His son was right. "Clark," he said quietly, "I was angry and hurt about what happened, but I was mad at Jor-El; he was the one I blamed for everything that had happened to us. I'm sorry, Clark. I didn't mean to take my anger for him out on you." He reached out and put a hand on Clark's shoulder. "I was grieving for the baby, and for your mother that day, and we both grieved for you when you ran away." He sighed. "It's okay to grieve Clark, even for someone you've never met, but running away only made things worse. Do you understand that, son?"  
  
Clark shrugged. "I guess." He looked up at his father. "Did you really look for me the entire time I was gone?"  
  
"Every minute," Jonathan answered. "And we would have looked longer if we had to." He squeezed his son's shoulder gently. "You are our son, Clark. Not Jor-El's, no matter what any voice or anyone tells you." He sighed. "And your mother and I would move heaven and earth to keep you safe."  
  
Martha felt tears welling up in her eyes as she listened to her husband. She took a deep breath and turned to Linda; the young woman had tears in her eyes as she watched Jonathan and Clark.  
  
"I believe you, Linda," she said. "I don't know why, but I believe you."  
  
"So, do I," Jonathan whispered.  
  
"Me too," Clark added softly. He looked at his cousin. "Is that why you came back? To save me?"  
  
"Saving you was a bonus," Linda replied with a slight smile. "You've helped me so much in the future; it was nice to repay some of the kindness you've shown me. But that wasn't the reason I came back." She paused and took a deep breath and looked at Jonathan. "I actually came back to save your father."  
  
(End of Chapter 7) 


	8. Chapter 8

- - - -  
  
"What do you mean you came back to save me?" Jonathan asked quietly.  
  
"Does this has to do with Jor-El and the caves?" Martha asked.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Clark asked, furrowing his eyebrows at his parents. They didn't look like they were going to be very informative. He looked back at Linda. "Why did you come back to save my father, and why did they mention the caves and Jor-El?" Linda looked hesitant. "Linda, tell me."  
  
Linda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Your father was going to make a deal with Jor-El to bring you home," she said.   
  
Clark shot a worried look at his father. "Dad!"  
  
Jonathan swallowed and said, "Clark, you don't understand -"  
  
"No, I don't understand," Clark interrupted. "Tell me why you were going to make a deal with Jor-El."  
  
"Because I wanted my son back!" Jonathan shouted. The room grew silent as everyone stared at Jonathan. It took a few moments for the farmer to realize what had happened, and he relaxed; he suddenly looked older. He turned to his son, and Clark could see the familiar warmth in his father's eyes.   
  
"Clark," he said gently as he put his hands on Clark's shoulders, "you are my son. My son, not Jor-El's. He didn't find you and raise you as his own. He didn't hold you when you had a bad dream, and he didn't wipe your nose when you had a cold. He didn't give you chocolate milk at breakfast every Saturday morning, and he didn't teach you how to ride a two-wheeler. He didn't teach you how to milk a cow, and he didn't teach you how to do long division. He didn't do anything for you except tear this family apart. I know there was a chance that something might happen to me in going to those caves to ask for his help, but I would move Heaven and Earth in order to bring you home." He pulled Clark to him and hugged him tightly as tears filled his eyes. "And I still would."  
  
Clark felt himself dissolving under his father's embrace, and the wall he had built up over the past three months collapsed. He let himself grow limp, and he was relieved that his father was able to support his dead weight; the young man, who had been the strongest person in Metropolis only a short time ago, was now having to hold onto his father for support. Clark closed his eyes and let the floodgates open. He didn't care anymore; he just let the tears freely flow as he buried his face in his father's shoulder and just cried.  
  
Martha and Linda wordlessly watched father and son, tears welling up in their own eyes. After a few minutes, Jonathan glanced over at Martha, and she nodded, knowing what that look meant. Jonathan slowly helped his son to his feet, then he led Clark up the stairs to the second floor. A few moments later, they heard a bedroom door quietly close.  
  
Linda was still staring at the staircase when she felt something touch her hand. She looked down and saw that Martha had put her hand over Linda's. She looked up into the older woman's eyes.  
  
"Thank you for bringing him home to us," Martha whispered.  
  
"I couldn't do anything less," Linda replied.  
  
Martha. "Linda, what would have happened to Jonathan if you hadn't come back?" Linda looked hesitant. "Please. I need to know."   
  
Linda sighed. "Jonathan said he would have done anything to bring Clark back, and Jor-El would have called him on that." She took a deep breath. "In exchange for bringing Clark back, Jonathan would have given up something in return."  
  
"What would he have sacrificed?" Martha asked.  
  
"His health," Linda answered. She saw Martha draw a hand over her mouth.  
  
"How long would he have lived?" Martha asked quietly.  
  
"He would have died in 2014," Linda explained. "One year after I came to Earth. Clark was living in Metropolis at the time. I was sixteen at the time, living with you two here in Smallville." She took a deep breath to maintain her composure. "It was a Saturday morning, and we were all having breakfast - Clark was with us. Jor-El decided that it was time to call in his deal with Jonathan. We were eating pancakes, and Jonathan just collapsed. We rushed him to the hospital, but . . . there was nothing any of us could do." Tears fell down her cheeks. "Jor-El made it look like a heart attack. Clark and I went to the caves, and Jor-El told us to that we should not react so emotionally to what happened; that Jonathan's decision, based on an emotional attachment, was more evidence that the human race was flawed, and that they had to be shown the proper ways of the Kryptonian race."   
  
Linda took a ragged breath before continuing. "Clark went ballistic. He got me out of the caves, and then he went back inside and tore the caves apart with his bare hands; he wanted them completely destroyed, and he accomplished that. After he finished, he sealed the entrance up to where it would take a long time for anyone to get in, and even then, no one would find anything useful; Clark destroyed everything. He . . . he just stood at the entrance, covered in dust, his clothes in tatters, staring down at the filled hole, and then he just collapsed to the ground, crying."   
  
Martha had to squeeze her eyes shut at the thought of the men she loved more than life itself going through so much pain. "Clark blamed himself?" she asked.  
  
Linda nodded. "He changed; he was never the same after that. He carried that day with him for so many years, and when I went to live in Metropolis, I couldn't bear to see him like that, but I didn't think there was anything I could do to fix it. It wasn't his fault, but he made it to be his fault. You know how he is about stuff like that."  
  
Martha nodded. "How did you get back here?" she asked.  
  
Linda reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a small object. She held out, and Martha could see it was small, about the size of a large calculator, and it had a colorful array of buttons on it.  
  
"Clark introduced me to an acquaintance of his that he met shortly after he moved to Metropolis," Linda explained. "After I met this acquaintance, he explained to Clark and me about this device, and his theory of time travel. Clark wasn't too thrilled with the idea of time travel, even though it hadn't been proven, but I saw an opportunity to fix something in the past that shouldn't have happened." She shrugged. "So, that's basically it."  
  
Martha sighed and got up from the table. She pulled a chair around and sat down next to Linda. "Linda, honey," she said, "I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am for what you've done, but did you stop to think about the consequences of doing this? You've compromised so much by coming here; you may have saved Jonathan's life, but by doing it, you could have seriously affected everyone's future."  
  
"I know," Linda replied quietly. "But to put this family back together, I would do it again in a heartbeat." She sighed. "And I haven't compromised too much by coming back; I kinda have a solution to fix that."  
  
"What solution is that?" Martha asked.  
  
Linda reached up and put her hands against Martha's temples. Before Martha could even open her mouth to question Linda's actions, her eyes closed, and she slumped over in her chair. Linda put the device back in her pocket and got to her feet. She carefully lifted an unconscious Martha out of the chair and carried her over to the couch. She gently lay the older woman down, then headed up the stairs.  
  
(End of Chapter 8) 


	9. Chapter 9

- - - -  
  
Jonathan sat next to his son on Clark's bed and carefully pulled a loose-fitting t-shirt down over Clark's head, then he helped guide his son's arms through the sleeves. "There," he said softly as he took Clark's shirt, stood up, walked over to the other side of the room, and put it in the hamper with his son's socks and jeans. He turned around and glanced at his son, sitting on the small bed, dressed in the shirt and a pair of old, gray sweats, his head hung in shame, and Jonathan sighed. He walked over and sat next to Clark, putting an arm around his shoulders.  
  
"Do you want to talk?" Jonathan asked.  
  
"Did you mean what you said down there?" Clark whispered. "About doing anything to bring me home?"  
  
"I meant every word of it," Jonathan replied. He cradled Clark's face in his hands. "I love you so much, son."  
  
"But I -"  
  
"Clark, you made some mistakes," Jonathan interrupted gently. "We'll deal with them later, okay?" Clark nodded slowly. "Good. Now, I want you to do two things for me, and I want you to promise, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Clark replied softly.  
  
"First, I want you to promise that, from now on, if you have a worry or a problem of any kind," Jonathan said, "you won't run away. Don't even consider it. We are a family, Clark, and we can't help each other if we always resort to running away. Promise?"  
  
"I promise," Clark whispered. "And the second thing?"  
  
"I want you to get some rest," Jonathan said. "That means staying in bed and sleeping, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Clark said. "Can I ask a favor, Dad?"  
  
"Sure," Jonathan answered.  
  
"Can I talk to Linda before going to bed?" Clark asked.  
  
Jonathan smiled slightly and answered, "Of course." He gently ruffled Clark's hair before getting to his feet. He helped his son under the covers, then he kissed Clark's forehead before heading to the door. He stepped out of the room and closed the door. He turned to leave and stopped when he saw Linda coming up the stairs. He stood protectively in front of the door, one hand on the doorknob, ready to defend his son if needed. It wasn't as though he didn't trust the young woman. She was responsible for bringing Clark home and for saving his life as well, but he had his son back in Smallville - resting in his own bedroom - for the first time in three months, and he wasn't about to let his guard down and risk losing Clark again for anyone.   
  
"How is Clark?" Linda softly asked as she walked up to Jonathan.  
  
"He's been ordered to get some rest," Jonathan replied. "But he wanted to see you first, and I said it was okay."  
  
"You don't fully trust me," Linda said. Jonathan stopped and stared at the young woman, tilting his head slightly. She smiled. "It's okay; you didn't fully trust me the first time we met."  
  
"It's nothing personal, Linda," Jonathan replied. "It's just that -"  
  
"You have your son back," Linda interrupted gently. "I understand, perfectly." She took a deep breath. "I won't be long, I promise."  
  
Jonathan nodded. "When you're done, I think you and I need to sit down with Martha and have a long talk ourselves about . . . all of this." Linda nodded, and Jonathan turned to leave, but he stopped. He looked back at the young woman and smiled. "And thank you for bringing Clark back."  
  
Linda smiled and said, "You're welcome." Jonathan nodded and turned to leave. "Jonathan." The farmer stopped and turned around. Linda walked up to the elder man and took a deep breath, and then she put her hands against Jonathan's temples. Jonathan's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell forward. Linda easily caught him and eased him to the floor, propping him up against the wall as he slept soundly.   
  
"Thank you for being such a great man," she whispered. She quietly walked over to Clark's door and slowly opened it, sticking her head in. "Clark?"  
  
Clark looked over, smiled a bit, and sat up straighter. "Hey," he said.  
  
Linda stepped in and closed the door behind her. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel?"  
  
Clark shrugged. "Okay, I guess. A little still out of it." He looked sheepish. "I'm sorry I fought you."  
  
Linda replied, "Hey, I kicked your butt too. Let's call it even, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Clark said. He sighed. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Why did you come back to this point in my life?" Clark asked. "I mean, why not come back to before I ran away and stop me?"  
  
Linda sighed. "Because, as weird as this sounds, you needed that three months to discover what kind of person you were, Clark." She took a deep breath. "In the future, you teach me so much about many things, and one of those things is about how it is so important for us to be responsible, because of who we are. You told me that when you lived in Metropolis for those three months, you learned that you were capable of so many things - even bad things that hurt people; you said you will never be able to completely put that time behind you. If I had gone back and stopped you from running away, there's no telling what I would have altered in the future." She hung her head apologetically.  
  
Clark reached over and tilted her chin up with one finger. "Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for, okay? I'm sorry if I sounded like I was accusing you; I wasn't."  
  
Linda chuckled. "You know, even when I'm older than you, you always have a way of cheering me up."  
  
"So, just out of curiosity, how old are you?" Clark asked.  
  
"In relation to what?" Linda asked. "Your time or my time?"  
  
"Uh . . .," Clark said slowly. "Can I rephrase that into 'when were you born?'"  
  
Linda chuckled. "In Earth time, I was born in 1998. So, now, I would be about five years old. I was sent to Earth when I was around thirteen years old, and I was fifteen when I arrived in Smallville."  
  
"How old are you now?" Clark asked. "I mean, you as in you here."  
  
"Nineteen," Linda answered.  
  
"So, you are from 2017," Clark said.  
  
"Yep," Linda replied. She patted his knee. "Well, you better get some rest." She got to her feet.  
  
"Where are you going?" Clark asked.  
  
Linda replied, "I have to go back, Clark. My work is done."  
  
"Why can't you stay here?" Clark asked. "You're my family."  
  
Linda sighed and sat back on the edge of the bed. "Clark, believe me, I would love to stay here, but you know I can't; I belong in the future." She smiled. "You remember what I said about us being special?" Clark nodded. "I meant every word of it." She leaned over and hugged her cousin, resting her chin on his shoulder and closing her eyes. She felt him wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly. "For now, you get some rest." She reached up and touched Clark's temples with her hands. She felt him go limp, and she eased him back until he was laying on his back. Linda pulled the covers up to Clark's shoulders, then she kissed his forehead. "See you later, Clark." She quietly made her way to the bedroom door and left the room, closing the door behind her.  
  
(End of Chapter 9) 


	10. Chapter 10

- - - -  
  
Clark felt his head throbbing as he opened his eyes. Sunlight was pouring through his window. Confused, he looked around, and saw his parents in chairs on the opposite end of the room; they were both in sitting positions and sound asleep. He rubbed his head and groaned as he pulled back the covers and carefully swung his legs over, resting his feet on the floor.  
  
"Mom, Dad," Clark whispered hoarsely.  
  
Jonathan and Martha stirred and opened their eyes. It took them a few moments to get their bearings as they looked around, but their eyes settled on their son, and the parents were both awake. They hurried over to the bed and sat on both sides of Clark.  
  
"Clark," Martha said softly as she started fussing with her son. "Are you okay? Did you sleep well?"  
  
"How do you feel?" Jonathan asked. "Do you feel sore?"  
  
"I should be asking you that same question," Martha said to her husband. "I still can't believe you went to Jor-El for help."  
  
"Jor-El?" Clark asked slowly. "He . . . what happened?"  
  
"Nothing," Jonathan said. "The important thing is that our family is back together." He smoothed some hair from Clark's face. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess," Clark replied slowly. "I had a weird dream. I was at LuthorCorp, and this girl showed up; she tried to take me home. We fell out of the windows, and she flew us home. We fought for a while . . . ." He looked at his father. "Dad, she had my powers."  
  
Jonathan put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Clark, you were just dreaming. Don't you remember what happened?" Clark slowly shook his head. "I came and got you from LuthorCorp last night. We fell out of the window, but no one flew away; we crashed to the ground and fought in the basement. You destroyed the ring during the fight, and then we came home."  
  
"And you collapsed because of whatever Jor-El did to you," Martha continued, looking at her husband. She turned to Clark. "I tried getting your father to get some sleep, but he insisted on staying with you after you fell asleep, so I pulled up two chairs, and we stayed here all night."  
  
Clark looked confused. "You sure it was all a dream? It seemed so real? I mean, she said she was my cousin . . . from Krypton. And she came back in time to save you, Dad." He glanced up at his window. "What about the barn and the fence?"  
  
"What about them?" Martha asked.  
  
"They were broken when she and I fought," Clark answered.  
  
"Clark," Jonathan said as his expression softened, "I can assure you that the fence and barn are just fine. There was no girl, believe me. For starters, how could she had traveled back in time? Secondly, how could she be your cousin, let alone from Krypton? Dr. Swann said that all evidence pointed to you being sent here alone."  
  
Clark rubbed his head. "But it seemed so real . . . ."  
  
"Sometimes," Martha said, "our dreams can seem real when we want them to come true badly enough. I know; I've been dreaming about you coming home for so long that there were times I thought you were actually here." She put a hand on her son's cheek as tears welled up in her eyes. "Part of me still can't believe you're home, Clark. I just want you to know that whatever happened in the past, we can work through it, okay?"  
  
"But I did so many bad things," Clark protested.  
  
"Clark, you made some mistakes," Jonathan interrupted gently. "We'll deal with them later, okay?" He felt a twinge of déjà vu, but he shook it away; he had more important matters to attend to. His family was together for the first time in three months - and he'd sacrifice himself before he'd let be anything tear them apart. He squeezed his son's shoulders. "Are you hungry?"  
  
Clark shrugged. "A little."  
  
"What do you feel like?" Martha asked.  
  
"Pancakes?" Clark asked. "With lots of syrup?"  
  
Martha felt a twinge of déjà vu, but she dismissed it as she got to her feet. "I'll get them started." She turned to her husband. "Jonathan, I think Clark might feel better after a shower." Jonathan nodded in agreement, and he helped his son to his feet as Martha left the room. She headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, switching on the television before she busied herself making the pancakes. She only half-listened as she mixed the ingredients, but then a news brief came on, Martha gave the television her full attention. A news anchor talked about a mysterious break in at LuthorCorp, resulting in damage to Lionel Luthor's office as well as extensive damage to a ground floor service area adjacent to the main plaza building. Martha shook her head and smiled mirthlessly as she went back to mixing the ingredients.  
  
(End of Chapter 10) 


	11. Epilogue

EPILOGUE  
  
Metropolis, 2017, 11:21 PM  
  
Linda closed her eyes as the night wind rushed around her. She looked down at the city below her and smiled. She had lived in Metropolis for over a year, but the sights and the sounds never failed to amaze her. She took in a deep breath and sighed, glad she was finally able to do something right since coming to the big city. She shifted slightly, changing direction, heading towards her apartment.   
  
A few moments later, the young woman silently landed on a small balcony and glanced around. Satisfied no one was looking, she opened the sliding door and walked inside, closing the door behind her and drawing the curtains. She turned and headed towards her bedroom, but she stopped when she saw the large, familiar silhouette sitting on her couch.  
  
"Hi," she said, putting on her best smile. Silence. "Um, look, I was just out . . . flying around."  
  
The silhouette reached over and switched on a nearby lamp. He was dressed in a blue sweater, a brown, suede jacket, black jeans, and black shoes. His hair was styled loosely, and he looked up at the young woman, his green eyes staring right at her from behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses; his expression was a combination of anger, disappointment, and worry.  
  
"Where is it?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Where's what?" Linda asked, innocently.  
  
The man stood up and walked over to the young woman. He easily towered over her as he gently grabbed her forearms. "Linda, don't lie to me," he said, his voice low and serious.  
  
Linda sighed. "Clark, I -"  
  
"You took it," Clark interrupted. "After I told you not to, after that big discussion we had earlier today, you still took it."  
  
"So, what if I did?" Linda asked, jerking free.  
  
"You *stole* it!" Clark said incredulously. "You know better than that, Linda."  
  
"How did you even find out?" Linda countered, angry.  
  
"Professor Wells called the Planet about an hour ago, looking for me," Clark explained. "Did you know that he has hidden cameras in his laboratory, and that all of them recorded you breaking in and taking his property? You know how shocked and embarrassed I was, for the both of us, when I saw that tape?"  
  
"Clark, I -"  
  
"You're lucky Professor Wells is such a good friend," Clark continued. "I was able to convince him not to call the police - if you returned the property you stole by morning. Personally - with an apology."  
  
"His idea or yours?" Linda asked.  
  
"Mine," Clark answered.  
  
"Figures," Linda muttered.  
  
Clark narrowed his eyes. "Linda, what has gotten into you? You have had this chip on your shoulder ever since Wells showed us what that device was capable of."  
  
"No, I've had this chip on my shoulder ever since you said we shouldn't use it," Linda retorted.  
  
"Time traveling is dangerous," Clark explained. "Things happen for a reason; I don't like it any more than you do, but people can't just go back in time to change it. And even if they could, no one knows how much one event in the past can shape the future. By changing one event, you could cause so many problems, even . . . if . . . ." As Clark slowly trailed off, his eyes widened as he stared down at the young woman.  
  
Linda looked confused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"  
  
Clark opened his mouth, but he couldn't form any coherent words. He closed his mouth, took a deep breath, then tried to speak again. "Linda," he said quietly, "did you use the device?"  
  
Linda gently jerked free from Clark's grip and headed for her bedroom. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said. She tried to shut the door behind her, but Clark stopped her. He walked in as Linda went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. She started for the bathroom, but Clark got in front of her. "Clark, I want to change." She indicated her outfit - the bright red boots, skirt, and cape, and the blue leotard with the red and yellow pentagonal S-shield. "You were the one who always told me to change as soon as I got home."  
  
Clark sighed and gently grabbed Linda's arms again. "Linda, when I was seventeen, I had a dream that seemed so real that I thought it was. It happened right after Dad brought me home after I had been missing for three months. I dreamed that a girl, who looked just like you, got me and brought me home; she said she was my cousin, that she was from Krypton, and that she came back from the future to save my father." He paused to catch his breath. "Both Mom and Dad convinced me that it was just a dream." He lowered his voice. "Now, I'm not so sure . . . Linda look at me." The young woman looked up. "Was it a dream?"  
  
Linda considered lying to him, but she knew that he'd find out and be more upset with her than he already was. She sighed and slowly shook her head. "No," she replied softly.  
  
Clark let go of his cousin and took a few steps back, his eyes wide with shock. He took a few deep breaths, but he couldn't think of anything to say. "You used the device and went back to save my father," he said slowly.  
  
Linda looked upset. "Clark, please don't be mad." Clark had to sit on the edge of Linda's bed, resting his elbows on his thighs as he buried his head in his hands. The young woman slowly walked over and sat beside her cousin. "Clark," she whispered, "I had to go back."  
  
"Why?" Clark looked up at her, confused. "What happened, Linda?"  
  
Linda looked hesitant, but she took a deep breath and looked up at Clark. She placed her hands on his temples and closed her eyes, concentrating. Clark saw a flash of light. When it faded, both he and Linda were standing in the darkened caves in Smallville. Clark looked around, then back at Linda.  
  
"How did we get here?" Clark asked.  
  
"Just watch," Linda said, softly. The two turned their heads as they saw someone approaching. A few moments later, Jonathan came around the bend, shining a flashlight. Clark's eyes widened. Jonathan wasn't the elderly man Clark saw recently; he looked much younger, the age he had been when Clark had run away.   
  
"Dad," Clark whispered as he reached for his father. His hand passed through Jonathan, and Jonathan made no indication that he even heard his son as he looked around the cave. Clark looked at Linda, questioningly.   
  
"It's not real, Clark," Linda replied.  
  
"Then what is it?" Clark asked.  
  
"My memories," Linda replied.  
  
The two Kryptonians watched as Jonathan looked around the caves. They saw him get frustrated and then the caves light up from the key. They saw the blur rush in and knock Jonathan away, taking his place, and Clark couldn't believe the blur was Linda. She started talking to the caves, to Jor-El's essence, then she ended the conversation, and talked with Jonathan. After a few moments, she left in a blur, leaving Jonathan alone, stunned.  
  
There was another flash of light, and Clark and Linda were standing in Lionel Luthor's office. They watched as the younger Clark broke open the vault and steal the metal box, then they saw him turn around, where Linda was waiting for him. The two teenagers talked, then Linda rushed the younger Clark, and they tumbled out the office window. Clark and Linda hurried over to the shattered windows and looked down. They saw two figures falling to the ground, then a split second later, they rocketed skyward and disappeared into the sky, heading towards Smallville.  
  
There was another flash of light, and Clark and Linda were standing outside the scalloped white fence of the Kent Farm. Clark barely had time to register where he was before an object fell from the sky, landing with a thundering sound, sending dust and dirt flying. When the dust settled, Clark could see is younger self on the ground. He heard his mother calling his name behind him, and he turned to look; he gasped when he saw younger versions of both of his parents.  
  
"Mom," he whispered. "Dad."  
  
He heard a whooshing sound, and turned around to see Linda landing near the younger version of himself. He watched in horror as his young doppelganger fought with Linda. He glanced down at his Linda and saw her face was expressionless. He turned back to watch the fight; he saw the barn and the fence get damaged, then younger Clark pin Linda to the ground. He held his breath as his younger self raised his fist, but then he shakily removed the ring and give it to Linda. He winced when he heard Clark scream, seeing the glow as the scar on his chest seared itself off, then his parents hurry over. He watched them take the young Clark into the house, then Linda followed them inside.  
  
There was another flash of light, and Clark and Linda were once again sitting on Linda's bed. Clark shook and gasped for air, as if he had been holding his breath for an eternity. He turned to Linda, his eyes wide.  
  
"That's what happened," Linda said, softly.  
  
"You . . . you were there," Clark replied hoarsely as the visions of what he just witnessed stayed in his mind. "You . . . you saved my father . . . I remember it . . . all of it . . . ." He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. He said he went into the caves and made a deal with Jor-El. I remember us fighting . . . and falling; the ring shattered, and . . . and . . . ."   
  
"Didn't you ever wonder why Jor-El never cashed in on that deal?" Linda asked. "Especially after everything he put you and your parents through." She sighed. "I just didn't want you to blame yourself anymore. And your father was too great of a man to let anything happen to him, especially what Jor-El did to him." She shrugged. "But I couldn't let you remember me being there; that would have changed things for everyone, so I made it seem like everything happened the way it did before I went back in time." She felt tears sliding down her cheeks. "I'm sorry I made you mad."  
  
Clark stopped and stared at his baby cousin. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. "I'm not mad at you," he whispered. He kissed her cheek. "I should be thanking you."  
  
"For what?" Linda whispered.  
  
"For saving my father's life," Clark replied.   
  
Linda looked confused as she pulled back and looked up at him. "You're not mad that I took the device and went back in time?"  
  
"Oh, no, I'm still mad about that," Clark replied. "And trust me, we will be dealing with that later." Linda cringed a bit, and Clark was glad to know that he still managed to instill a little fear in her every now and then. "But for now, we have some other business to take care of."  
  
"What's that?" Linda asked warily.  
  
Clark smiled and got to his feet. The look his cousin was giving him was enough to change his smile to a gentle grin. Normally he would have capitalized on her confusion, but right now he was too busy grappling with some powerful emotions to look at her with anything other than love and gratitude. "Why don't you change into something more comfortable?"  
  
"Um, okay . . . Why?"  
  
"Because you and I are about to take a little trip, and I don't know whether we'll be back tonight or not."  
  
"Would it be too much for me to ask where we're going?"  
  
He chuckled lightly. "Back to where it all started."  
  
Linda just stared at his retreating back as he wandered into the kitchen to give her some space. Finally she rolled her eyes, shook her head, and turned to locate her favorite casual outfit: a loose, lavender sweater that was hand-knit by Martha; a pair of loose, faded jeans; some thick, fuzzy socks; and a pair of tennis shoes. Even though she was still wary of what Clark had in mind for them, she was curious. She quickly changed clothes, putting her costume on a hanger and hanging it on the back of the bathroom door to clean it later, and then she walked into the living room.   
  
Clark was standing on the balcony, waiting. He turned and smiled, beckoning her to join him. The young woman slowly walked up to him. He reached down and took her hand, then he gently floated in the air, pulling her up with him. The two flew away from the balcony and high over the city. He looked down at her, and she caught herself peering at his profile, wondering what he was doing; she couldn't decide if he was taking her to Professor Wells' lab or up into space - to the galaxy they both came from. He smiled down at her, and then he veered them away from the city, high into the clouds.  
  
"Do you remember the first time we did this together?" he asked as the wind whipped around them.  
  
"Yeah," Linda whispered. "Clark, where are we going?"  
  
Clark just grinned as they started their descent through the clouds. A few moments later, they landed, and Linda sucked in her breath when she realized where they were. They were standing in front of a scalloped white fence. She glanced at the farmhouse; there were a few lights still on. She jerked her head up in fear at her cousin.   
  
"Come on," he said softly. He opened the fence and led her up to the porch. The ascended the stairs, and Clark gently rapped on the door. They waited a few moments, and then the door opened.  
  
The middle-aged man who opened the door was the same man Clark had known as his father since beyond reach of his memory, and yet the pleasantly worn face and placid eyes hid depths and secrets that the younger man was only now starting to grasp. Jonathan Kent's silvering blond hair was slightly rumpled and his old navy blue pocket t-shirt and blue plaid cotton pants were evidence that the farmer had retired for the night and had woken to their knocking. The cautious friendliness and keen readiness in his eyes changed to curiosity, concern, and obvious pleasure when he recognized his son and daughter.  
  
Martha appeared behind Jonathan, her red-and-silver hair hanging loose and brushing against the collar of a large terry robe Clark recognized as Jonathan's. Her satin pajamas peeked out from under the thick robe. She, too, looked pleased to see them, even at this time of night. She noticed that Linda looked slightly uncomfortable and wouldn't meet her eyes, and Martha looked to Clark for an explanation, but her son's gaze was fixed on her husband, and the light in his eyes that had always belonged only to his father was somehow more intense tonight.  
  
"Clark," she said, "Linda, is everything okay?"  
  
"Yeah," Clark said, slowly coming out of his trance. He smiled at his mother. "Yeah, we're fine, Mom. We just both felt like seeing you two tonight. Is that okay?"  
  
"Of course," Jonathan smiled. "Come on in, you two." He reached out and herded his kids inside, shutting the door behind them.   
  
"Why don't you two sit down," Martha said, "and I'll start the kettle. You two in the mood for -"  
  
"Apple cider?" Linda interrupted. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, and she flinched slightly. "Sorry." Clark gave her a look as she sat at the table; he sat in the chair next to her.  
  
Jonathan and Martha shared a glance, knowing there was something going on between their children. The Kents were familiar with Clark and Linda always sharing secrets and doing things together on their own (one thing in particular), but they also knew when their kids were keeping dangerous secrets from them; every family had its boundaries, and that was where the Kents drew theirs.  
  
"Okay, you two," Jonathan said as he sat at the kitchen table, "spill it, because we're just going to keep bugging you until you tell us."  
  
"Can't two kids fly home every once in a while to see their parents?" Clark asked innocently.  
  
"Clark, how old are you?" Martha asked as she sat in the fourth chair.  
  
"Uh, thirty-two," Clark replied slowly.  
  
"And how many times have you successfully been able to fool your father and me?" Martha asked.  
  
"None," Clark answered. Linda snickered slightly. Clark gave her a look. "Linda, you're in enough trouble as it is, so don't push it." He glanced at his father. "Dad, I . . . ." He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat as he remembered everything Linda showed him.  
  
"Clark, what happened?" Jonathan asked worriedly as he pulled his chair closer to his son. His son was on the verge of tears. "Son?"  
  
Wordlessly, Clark reached over and hugged his father as tightly as he dared. He rested his head against Jonathan's shoulder, and Jonathan looked at his wife. Martha's eyes locked with his, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was: something really terrible must have happened for Clark to be as emotional as he was. She looked at Linda, hoping her daughter would be able to provide some answers to what was going on, but Linda just hung her head, and Martha could see the young woman was trying not to cry. She pulled her chair over next to Linda and wrapped her arms around her; Linda didn't say a word as she rested her head against Martha's shoulder.  
  
"Clark, tell us what happened," Jonathan whispered in his son's ear, his arms around his son's torso. "It's okay; we'll work through it . . . we always do." He started rubbing the small indention at the base of his son's back, knowing that it always had a therapeutic effect on his boy. "Come on, son; you can talk to us."  
  
"Nothing bad happened," Clark whispered. "Honest."  
  
"Then why do you and Linda seem so upset?" Martha asked, one arm around Linda's waist, the other hand stroking Linda's hair.  
  
"It's all my fault," Linda whispered. "I didn't think . . . ."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Martha asked.  
  
Linda looked at Clark, waiting for his guidance. Clark sat up straighter and took a deep breath, regaining his composure. He took a deep breath. "Mom, Dad," he said, "something bad didn't happen, but something *did* happen."  
  
"Clark, what's going on?" Jonathan asked. His expression hardened a bit. "Did Lex do something?"  
  
Clark shook his head. "No, it wasn't Lex . . . what happened had nothing to do with Lex." He sighed. "You remember when I ran away, and Dad found me and brought me home from Metropolis?"  
  
"Of course we remember," Martha answered. "We could never forget that. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Remember that dream I said I had?" The Kents nodded. "Well . . . it's wasn't a dream."  
  
"Of course, it was a dream," Jonathan said. "There was no girl there who . . . could . . . fly . . . ." As he trailed off, he slowly turned his head to look at his daughter. He swallowed when he saw how small she looked in Martha's embrace. "Linda, honey, is there something you want to tell us?" Linda shook her head and buried her face in Martha's shoulder.  
  
"I think I better explain," Clark said. He chuckled mirthlessly. "It might even make more sense to me this time around." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, I guess it all started when Linda and I went to Professor Wells' lab earlier this week . . . ."   
  
Clark began explaining everything he knew about what had happened. He didn't look at his parents once; he knew he wouldn't be able to get through it if he looked at them - especially his father - before he was done. It took nearly thirty minutes explaining everything, Clark made sure to include *every* detail he could remember, but he finally finished. With a bit of hesitation and lots of worry, Clark glanced over at his father.  
  
Jonathan Kent was rarely surprised by anything that was thrown at him. After all, he and Martha raised Clark into a man they were both proud of; not an easy task when their son's development included emerging superpowers. Then Linda came into the picture a few years ago, and the Kents had the audacious task of raising an already-empowered teenage girl, but their guidance helped Linda grow into the young woman that was in Martha's arms, a woman they were both very proud of as well. But that night, for the first time in a long time, Jonathan Kent had no clue what to do.  
  
Martha was the first one to move. She pulled back and gently lifted Linda's chin, meeting the young woman's eyes with her own. "Linda," she said, "did that really happen?"   
  
Linda looked down, but she nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," she whispered.  
  
"Oh, sweetie," Martha said, cupping Linda's chin with her hands. She couldn't think of anything to say; she looked up at her husband for guidance.  
  
Jonathan swallowed the lump forming in his throat as tears welled up in his eyes. "Linda, why?" he asked.  
  
Linda looked up, her eyes bright with tears. "Because you're the closest thing to a father I've ever had." She took a ragged breath. "Because you're the only father Clark *ever* had. And Jor-El had no right to take you from us." She shook her head. "You don't remember what it felt like - before I went back and changed everything - and I'm glad you don't. That's why I made you forget everything." She paused. "And I know it was wrong to steal Professor Wells' device and go back -"  
  
"Linda," Jonathan interrupted gently, "it was dangerous." Linda hung her head. Jonathan felt his heart ache as he got up from his chair and walked over. He knelt down beside Linda and gently turned the young woman around to face him. "Linda, we don't hate you for what you did."  
  
"But you're mad at me," Linda whispered softly, on the verge of tears.  
  
"We're mad because you took something that didn't belong to you," Jonathan explained. "And then you did something that Clark told you not to do. You risked your life by doing what you did." He paused to take a breath. "And you could have changed a lot more than our lives by going back in time." He took a finger and tilted her chin up to meet her eyes. "Sweetie, do you understand what I'm saying?" Linda slowly nodded. Jonathan smiled and took her hands in his, kissing them. "That's my girl." He glanced at his wife; Martha recognized the look, and she nodded. She got to her feet, and Jonathan handed Linda over to her. Both Clark and Jonathan watched as the two women walked up the stairs.  
  
Jonathan glanced over at his son, and he could see Clark looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The farmer walked over and took his chair next to his son. "Clark," he said, "are you okay?" Clark shrugged. "Son, what is it?"   
  
"I don't know," Clark replied. He sighed. "It's been a very weird night." He looked up at his father with tears in his eyes. "Dad, I -"  
  
Jonathan wasted no time in pulling his son into a hug; Clark wrapped his arms around his father as tightly as he dared, and he buried his head in the soft spot in his father's shoulder as he started crying. Jonathan held his son and rocked him gently as if Clark was once again a toddler. "I know, son," he whispered. "I know." He eased Clark to his feet, and he guided him into the living room. He gently sat down on the couch and pulled his son down next to him; he turned Clark towards him and helped him get comfortable, but Clark started getting squirmy. "Clark, it's okay. Just relax, son."   
  
"I can't," Clark said. "I . . . I need to get back to Metropolis."  
  
"Metropolis has done just fine without you for a long time, Clark," Jonathan said, smiling gently. "I think it'll survive one night without you or Linda."  
  
"But -"  
  
"No buts," Jonathan interrupted. He put an arm around his son and started rubbing Clark's back, right between the shoulder blades. "I know what Linda did upset you."  
  
"Dad, I got these memories in my head of something that I don't even remember really happening," Clark said. "When Linda let me see what she did, I also saw what would have happened if she had never gone back." He took a ragged breath as his voice wavered. "I saw you die, Dad."  
  
Jonathan swallowed as Clark rested his head on the farmer's shoulder. He pulled his son closer and rested his cheek on top of Clark's head. He kept rubbing Clark's back, trying to get his son to relax. It took almost thirty minutes, but he could finally feel Clark going limp; half an hour after that, the young man was truly asleep. Jonathan smiled, glad he still had the magic touch with Clark. He carefully - and reluctantly - extracted himself from his son and stood up. He supported his son as he gently slipped off Clark's jacket and put it aside. He lay his sleeping son all the way on the couch, then he removed Clark's socks and shoes, putting them neatly on the floor. Jonathan tucked a pillow under Clark's head and grabbed the large afghan on the couch to cover his son, then he kissed Clark's forehead. He sighed and stood up, and he saw Martha. She was standing at the foot of the stairs near the front door. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"How's Clark?" Martha asked, resting her head against her husband's chest.  
  
"Upset," Jonathan answered. He sighed. "I feel like it's all my fault."  
  
"Jonathan, you can't blame yourself," Martha replied.  
  
"Martha, if I hadn't gone to the caves to make a deal with Jor-El, then none of this would have happened."  
  
"True, but if you hadn't gone to the caves, then Clark would have never come back; you brought our son home."  
  
"But at what cost?" Jonathan asked. "I had a son who blamed himself for my death, then our daughter stole a time traveling device and put herself at risk to go back in time and try to fix everything." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "How's Linda?"  
  
"Well, I managed to convince her to stay and get some sleep," Martha replied. "But I think she still feels like we hate her for what she did." She sighed as she glanced over toward the couch, watching her son sleep. "What are we going to do with them, Jonathan?"  
  
"Let them sleep," Jonathan answered. "I think they've earned it."  
  
"And what about in the morning?"  
  
Jonathan smiled. "We'll be here for them, like we always are." He pulled back, took her hands, and kissed them. "Go to sleep, sweetie; I'll get the lights." Martha smiled and kissed her husband before heading up the stairs. Jonathan made his rounds, locking doors and turning off lights. He checked on his son one last time and smiled; Clark was asleep, and his breathing was slow and regular.   
  
"Good night, son," Jonathan whispered before quietly heading up the stairs. He padded down to the end of the hallway on the second floor and carefully opened the closed door. He stuck his head in and saw Linda, snuggled up against a few pillows under a thick comforter; like her older cousin, she was fast asleep. "Goodnight, sweetie." He closed the door and made his way to the master bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him. He got into bed and snuggled next to Martha, holding her close to him; she turned in his arms and sleepily kissed him, renewing their old spark and silently promising more tomorrow - for there would be time for them. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt more loved - and more alive - than he'd thought possible.   
  
THE END 


End file.
